


Black Dog

by TheApostate



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Breakups, Choking, F/F, F/M, Slow Burn, Toxic Relationship, angry!V, cheating?, sad!V, this is not a soft!Johnny fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28544820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheApostate/pseuds/TheApostate
Summary: In her fear and anger, V begins parting herself out like a car in a chop-shop, like a body being stripped by scavs. Johnny is making her life difficult in more ways than one. Can she deal with the stress, will she crumble? Or maybe there's another option... How far can she stretch herself before she breaks?
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Judy Alvarez/Female V, Kerry Eurodyne/Female V, River Ward/Female V
Comments: 20
Kudos: 61





	1. Highway to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, names Liz (Lizzy Wizzy if you like) and I’m a bi-sexual disaster and this game cut out my heart, held it close like a sweet, baby bird then absolutely yeeted it into an active volcano. This has woken me up and made me write. I haven't submitted anything in literally 12 years. Between Judy, River, Kerry and Johnny Fucking Silverhand neither I or my little V could handle ourselves.  
> Look, I know you’re here for the same reason I’m writing this. You're in pain but You Need More. You’ve finished the game and you’re feeling empty. Believe me, I understand. I and many others in this community do. We are here to help LOL
> 
> Edit: Yeah... there are a lot of grammar mistakes in this. I'm sorry. I'll go back and edit it after a bit.
> 
> Edit #2: Fixed some of the... things and... stuff.

A few weeks into knowing Johnny Silverhand more intimately than she ever could have wanted to, V found keeping herself busy with merc jobs was the best way to keep her mind from wandering to the what-if’s and could-be’s. She packed away all her feelings into a cramped little box in her head and put her nose to the grind. V just wanted to pretend things were as normal as she could. After all, if she wanted to be successful she needed to start making some serious scratch. The other plus side was that the mental hologram of this absolutely intolerable parasite would shut up most of the time when she was actively taking down the scum of Night City. She wouldn’t say the work was pleasant to do or that she even liked the biz she did but work was work. She wasn’t used to running around the city without Jackie there by her side. She’d only known him for six months but she trusted him more than anyone she had ever met. And now, he was gone. Just gone. Her heart frosted over like she imagined the Arctic ocean once did before the ice caps had melted almost to nothing.

So she kept herself busy. Fear and Sorrow were mutated into hate and frustration and she weaponized it toward the people she was hired to ‘take care of.’ She ticks off their names like boxes on a checklist because that's all they are to her. She’s a gun for hire in this city and damn, is she good at what she does.

She thinks Johnny notices how good she’s getting at slaughtering these people. Sometimes he compliments her on good shots or well-dodged bullets but he's always quick with an insult right after so she won't think he actually approves. The old washed up rockstar, terrorist, bag of dicks is snide and downright cruel when he wants to be. If growing up on the streets of Night City gave her one thing it was thick skin. She could take what he delt to her. Mostly. But if V’s honest he was really starting to grate on her like sandpaper, the awful prick. She didn’t let herself think about how fucked up this all was. They’re tied together until death -- or at least until one or both of them dies. If the intensity of her cybernetically fueled migraines were any clue, it was gonna happen sooner rather than later. Johnny Silverhand was devouring her. It was only a matter of time.

Johnny was torn. This stupid cunt was actually getting good at being a solo. Like she just flipped a switch and let herself really take the wheel. He almost respected her for it. Almost. It was her and her brute of a friend who got him into this situation. Well… at least that was how he saw it. He was glad he didn't kill her before though because maybe she could be useful to him. When she dove into work to hide from thinking about their fucking miserable fate she was _really_ honing herself into a weapon. Her nerve endings and muscle memory were refining at a dramatic rate; her cool is kept even and mellow as she deals out cyberware malfunction quickhacks and short circuits to her enemies from behind cover. She then palms her revolver for the killing blows, usually headshot or two quick bullets to the chest. A good system. Efficient. She’d become cold and if he’s being frank, a little intimidating. Her reputation was beginning to precede her in the bars they dropped into at night to wind down.

If this all goes up in fuckin’ flames in the end, if somehow he can’t give her back her life... Then he’s all good. Her body will be perfectly conditioned to accommodate him. Johnny Silverhand was an opportunist, what could he say? He’ll just have to get used to all her cybernetics. She’s added a shit ton of new enhancements from mono-wires to strengthened tendons for jumping to armor literally under her skin. _'Huh,'_ he wonders, _'maybe she’s morphin' into some sick, cyberpsycho.'_ Maybe all that chrome she’s chippin’ in is changin' her for the worse. Maybe she's a serial killer in the making. He doubts that latter option but hey, he just met this chick. Until that fateful day full of hard decisions dawns on them he has to live with her 24-fuckin’-7 and she is not that cool to be around when she does nothin’ but work and kill. She needs to have a little fun (and soon) or he was going to lose his goddamn mind. The best way to do that was to guilt-trip her. He had a plan.

It's a cold day in Night City. They're working a job and she's been trying to ignore him all day. This pisses him off mildly. Efficiently dispatching some Claws in a filthy alleyway, V never even had to fire her weapon once. She looks over their bodies strewn over the stinking trash bags, a sick satisfaction bubbling deep within her, dark and molten. A job well done.

“Thank you,” A man says wearily, backing away from her. She’s a little surprised by a voice breaking her out of her focused state. She draws her gun on him with lightning speed, didn't even have to think about doing it. You can’t trust anyone in Night City, not even your rescuers. She quickly diverts her aim so no accidents happen. As far as she's concerned he was free to live another day. She doesn’t know how he ended up in trouble with the Claws and she doesn’t care. She waves him away dismissively with her tech rifle and he runs off to safety holsters the gun again, thankful she didn’t shoot on instinct.

One of the Tygers had a pretty decent shotgun on them she knows will sell high so she kleps it, stuffing it into her backpack. Going through their bloody pockets she picks through ennies, snacks and ammo. The pre-existing stench of the alleyway has nothing to gain from the smell of the bodies’ shit, piss, and blood. She waves a hand like a fan in front of her face to clear the air. There's another smell, too: The scent of seared meat -- electrified grey matter boiled out of one of their noses smells sharp and, disgustingly, not entirely unpleasant. It reminds her vaguely of barbecue. ‘ _Fuckin' nasty, dude.’_ But it gets her thinking about the lunch she forgot to eat. Or was that breakfast? She raises from crouching, wipes her hands on her black yoros, and walks out of the alley, leaving what would have been a murder scene behind her if she hadn't rescued that dude. V punches in an order for a NiCola at the nearest vending machine. Johnny's engram glitches into view, leaning on it. Sunglasses on, not looking her way. Whenever he appears she can always feel it before it happens. It’s like a light tingling, a dull hum of the feedback loop they share. Sorta like the feeling of bass vibrating your body when you’re on the dance floor but inaudible. Or like tinnitus but low and emanating from your occipital. It’s hard to describe. That's another one of those things she doesn’t like to think about.

“Those fuckers stink but that was pretty clean work back there. If I didn’t know any better, and I do, I’d say you were startin' to enjoy this. Maybe a little too much.”

She shrugs and takes a sip from her room temperature can. “Yeah? What’s it to you?”

“Just make sure you’re not becomin' someone the old you wouldn't like.”

“The hell you know about me or what I want, jackass?”

“Know a fuckin’ lot, actually.” He retorts in his usual cool way. A dismissive scoff pushes out of her throat but she says nothing, ignoring him. She starts to walk down the sidewalk. _‘Must be about 7 o’clock now,’_ she thinks casually.

“Think you’re so smart, but you might not be able to come back from this.”

“Fuck’s that supposed'ta mean? Now the terrorist is giving me advice on being more zen? I’m already tryin' not to become _you_ , dick. Let me handle this my way.”

“Hey, do as I say, not as I do.” He feigns wisdom but instead, he sounds flippant. She rolls her eyes.

“Ghost off. In case you haven’t noticed, this's my biz, asshole. Not everyone is so lucky to get to play the guitar and not have to work a day in their life. Some of us have to get real jobs." She feels his anger spike at that comment, sharp and hot. ‘ _Good. Get pissed off. The feelings mutual.’_ She continues to walk the sidewalk in the Kabuki neighborhood. V chucks her barely touched soda in the gutter and starts to check her tablet for another gig to do before the day ends. She considers doing another one after that once it gets dark, all the better for keeping stealthy.

“Don’t fucking get it, do ya? You’re pokin' holes in your soul with every extra life you snuff out in this damn city. I can feel it happening and it’s damn chilling. I may've flatlined my share of gonks in my day but this is gettin' gratuitous.”

“The fuck are you saying? You were cheering me on killing these guys not that long ago. _“_ Burn this city,"you said: your exact words. Well, this is what that looks like, Johnny.”

He gestures exasperatedly then collects himself. “It's good to know some'a what I say gets through that thick skull'o yours. But you gotta have a vision, a goal, you can’t just leave a bloody path in your wake. This is supposed'ta be a _coup d'état_ straight up Arasaka’s asshole, not a free-for-all.”

“Don’t you mean “ _coup de grâce,”_ dick?”

 _“Touché_ , cunt.” He lets her have that one. He’s given her a buncha shit today and she’s doing a pretty good job eating it.

“Make up your mind, Johnny. I can’t keep up with these constant mood swings. You’re like a teenager but you’re too fuckin’ ancient to be one.” She stops walking and rounds on him. “And what exactly would ya have me do instead? It doesn’t matter anymore, Johnny! None of this does! You? Me? This fucking shit hole of a city? None of it.’" If she’s gonna leave her mark on Night City it might as well be a nasty scar. A scar to match the ones it’s left on her. “It’s a fucked up means to a fucked up end.”

Taking out a pack of cigarettes, she smacks the box on the heel of her palm a few times to loosen them. Johnny can tell she just needs something to fidget with. She lights a stick, takes a quick drag, and holds it in trying to calm herself. She’s embraced the bad habit. Like she was saying, it doesn’t matter. She was dying anyway. They both take a shuddering breath letting the nicotine caress their lungs. Her lungs. Whatever.

“Aren't completely wrong but you better shape up or your bullshits gonna get us both killed.” The irony of his statement in the light of their situation was not lost on her.

The sun was hanging low in the sky casting long shadows. She stares at the place where Johnny's shadow should have been and smokes the rest of her cigarette before she calls Jackie’s Arch. They stand on the side of the road, waiting for it to roll up while she grinds out the butt into the cement with her heel. Johnny doesn't usually stick around when time is idle but for some reason, he stays. V tries not to look at him. When she shuffles from foot to foot beside him for more than four minutes she feels herself actually begin to worry. She calls the bike a few more times, antsy. Another minute goes by and she starts looking around nervously. Then she feels silly for worrying about a stupid motorcycle. In the last few days, she's made enough eddies to buy a new car, maybe even the one Wako offered her a week ago if it’s still available. But she didn't need to because she's already got a vehicle and _‘no bike can replace Jackie’s,’_ admits a quiet voice in her mind. Thankfully it’s her own thought this time. It’s the only thing she has that once belonged to him and she'd be damned if she rode anything else. _‘Damnit, Jack. I wish you were here.’_

 _‘That’s what you wanna protect, V: your heart. At least what's left of it.’_ That definitely was not her own thought that time. _‘Get yer shit done but you don’t gotta cross that line.’_

“Spare me, Johnny, you're gonna make me puke.” She replies to him under her breath. She acknowledges what he means by “that line” though. She’d done gigs to neutralize people who had smaller death toles than herself. She supposed it was something to think about. She won't admit it though. Instead, she sneers and says, "Did the famous rebel Johnny Silverhand grow a conscience all of a sudden?" He doesn't say anything.

She pings the Arch’s GPS signal and it was just up the street this whole time, it seems. When she walks a bit toward the bike's marker and sees a police line. The road is blocked and the bike is there waiting patiently for the road to clear. Relief washes over her as she goes to retrieve it. ‘ _Stupid gonk, bike.’_ She smiles fondly. Just as she swings her leg over the Arch’s seat he appears only as a voice in her ear:

 _‘What would Jackie think of the new you?’_ A voice rings out like a bell in her mind, too loud.

“Oh, we are not doin' that. Don’t you ever talk about him to me.” She answers with a low edge to her voice. A finality.

_‘Didn’t say anything, V.’_

_‘Stop trying to confuse me.’_

Johnnys there, she can feel the dull hum of his presence though she refuses to turn and face him. She knows if she would look she'd see him standing there starring at her through those glasses of his probably giving her a strange look. Probably thinking she's going skitzo. She wishes he would just leave. Though she knows it's impossible for him to do so, she wishes it all the same. Somewhere in her brain, she feels something like a twitch and she knows he’s gone. The bass hum disappears and she takes off on her bike giving the NCPD pigs a wide berth.

* * *

That night, she decides to work off some steam and takes on a gig to klep back some sensitive files from the Maelstrom gang. She needed a challenge and she knew they could give it to her. V descends through the building sleuthing out a hidden staircase descending into it's depths. Slinking through the shadows like a cat, she hacks cameras and people alike with the same, cold efficiency. The woman at the end though, the very last one of the group; she puts up a fight. A real fight.

She's a survivor much like herself. Matching her move for move, dodging her mantis blade swipes narrowly, V takes her on. Curiously she finds that looking at her feels a little like looking into a mirror. Or maybe into the abyss. If her life had been different would she have been where this woman stands now? With a swift kick to the outside of her leg, V cracks the weak joint in her metal knee.

The fight's over but she won't give it up, she just keeps getting back up. Judging by the sounds she's making, V's sure what if the woman still had 'ganic eyes she'd be crying tears of frustration. Watching the wounded woman struggle to fight her off wears V’s patience thin. Deciding to end this for good she disables the cyborg woman with a cyberware malfunction, totaly locking up all her hardware. She freezes and topples over like a stack of bricks. Almost all of her ‘ganics had been replaced or modified and her hard, metal body clangs loudly as she hits the ground. She wouldn’t expect anything less from a Maelstromer. V would have honestly been disappointed otherwise. All that money she's chipped into herself for what?

“Do us both a fuckin' favor 'n stay down.” V tells her between ragged breaths, feeling a little bored. Tiredness begins to grip her as she catches her breath. She checks the time; 1:34 in the morning. _'Shit, is it that late?'_

The woman screams ragefully, the sound tinny like a strange recording. No words, just anger. It echos off every hard surface of the concrete tomb of a basement surrounding them.

“You fucking cunt, you murdered my output!” She seeths. It catches V off guard and for a moment her heart twinges in sympathy. V's eyes harden, glaring down at her. The Maelstrom woman, for all her strength and fury, bleeds out soon after the outburst while V watches her die. A confusing sorrow laces itself around her heart. V stares at the woman's bloody body and she tries to guess the feeling that's settled within her. All the feelings she's bottled up are threatening to bubble to the surface. Adrenaline sizzles through every fiber of muscle in her extremities, tingling around the edges of her cold cyberware. She's slaughtered her way through this musty basement teaming with Maelstrome goons. Fought for her own damned life and now, just now, V's stopped to really consider that each of these cyborgs was a person. A person like her. V shakes her head. But this is her JOB. This is something that has to be done to survive: kill, or be killed. What else is she supposed to do? This is Night City, not fucking Atlanta. No, she was right, this woman had to be flatlined. She was dangerous.

Devoid of life, the cavernous room is eerily quiet as she searches for her target; the large, standing servers. Two, long fluorescent bulbs run the length of the room, both are weakly flickering, buzzing with the effort to stay lit but only succeeding in keeping the room dim at best. She begins to walk away when movement in her peripheral vision snatches her attention. The corpse she just zeroed was starting to move again. The woman's body shudders in latent death throes being motorized by her numerous cybernetics relaying off of the lack of signal to her now dead brain. The secondary power sources in her limbs seemed to be dying all over again, lacking vital signals from her 'ganic nerves. Lifeless but animated, the corpse flails, throwing sparks into the dark. The light sears bright shadows into her optics, leaving a negative imprint of the scene in her vision. The synth-muscle must be confused and malfunctioning after it's host has stopped responding. V watches the body, frozen to where she stands. She's heard of this happening before but had never actually seen it. Now that she has, all she can do is wish that she hadn't.

Fear trickles down her throat where it churns, sharp as broken glass in her belly but the corpse's wretched movement won't stop. It just goes on and on. V finally lets out a stifled shriek, shooting her rifle at the woman’s lifeless head. It explodes all over the concrete floor. Finally, the corpse lay still. The resulting gore turns V’s stomach and before she knows it she puking up her guts. She hasn't eaten all day so she ends up dry-heaving painfully.

“ _Told_ you so.” Johnny flashes into view, flickering blue and white in the dim room. He points aggressively down at the corpse then at V, herself. He’s glaring at her now. “This isn’t you. Tryin' to prove me wrong but that just backfired. Quit now before ya lose this battle.”

She glares right back, wiping her mouth and eyes with the back of her hand. “What, ya mean between you and me?” Her optics flicker trying to refresh the burned image from her vision feed.

“No, the battle for you fuckin' soul, princess.” He points a finger past the tattooed heart on her chest straight at her heart within. 

“You’re already takin’ that away from me, Johnny. Bit by bit. Why slow it down now?” She knows she sounds like a gonk finally saying it out loud. She does her best not to look a the mangled heap of metal and flesh seeping on the floor.

“Oh, I'm Flattered, sweetheart, but you can’t blame anyone but yourself for that. You’re slippin’ away like sand through a sieve.” He barks at her.

She covers her face with both of her hands, her palms sticky with warm sweat and bile. “Just fuckin’ leave me alone.” She sounds as exhausted as he knows she feels now that the adrenaline’s worn off. She's starting to feel the cold now. This argument was not on her agenda for tonight but Johnny doesn’t care. His opportunity was now.

“This isn’t just _your_ life anymore! Draggin' my sorry ass with you.”

“Fuck, Johnny, just shut the hell up!”

Her sinuses begin to sting, her eyes starting to tear up. _‘No point in that. Tears won't fix this, shit.’_ She sniffs and wipes her face again, spits on the ground to get the rank, acidic taste out of her mouth. She won’t let his words get to her because he's just trying to hurt her. He doesn’t know anything. He’s just a parasite clinging to her for dear life. Like a baby grabbing his mommy’s tits looking for safety. Her mind feels a flash of anger at Jackie for putting the damn chip into her head before he fuckin’ died. But even that thought hits her with recoil. ‘ _Fuck_.' She doesn’t have time for this. She’s tired and sore and just wants to go home.

She steadying breath and jacks into the Maelstrom mainframe, her breath manifesting around her in the frigid air of the server room. She relays the info to Padre’s database in a text with the file attached. Padre calls her back, short and sweet, closing the gig and transferring the eddies into her account. A plush chunk of change.

“Can’t ignore me, V.” His cool tone is back, mocking.

“The hell I can’t.” She grumbles to herself. To him. It didn’t matter.

Apparently, he’s not used to being written off that easy. He snaps into sight directly in front of her, her optics fizzling suddenly. “You know what, _doll_ ?” He hisses the word and she knows he’s intending to call her a whore. Her head begins to ache, quietly humming like an overworked CPU but she doesn't shrink away from the taller man. He couldn't hurt her if he tried. All bark, no bite. “Maybe you’re right, maybe I shouldn’t give a shit what a monster you’re turning yourself into. Why should I? You sure as hell don’t.” He can sense, no, feel her resolve crumbling, though she's not showing it on her face. Bitch knows he’s right. “It’s no fuckin' fun bein' stuck in your head. At first, you were just a sad, little fuck but now, you’ve changed. I think I’ve been _rubbin'_ off on you.” He grabs his junk at her for emphasis. “You wanna die with your heart black as coal, be my fuckin' guest but don’t try to take me along for that ride.”

Her body is completely still and her voice is flat. "You're a hypocrite, Johnny Silverhand," she says looking him straight in his eyes with cold resentment. He can tell that she's had more than enough of him tonight. He watches her white on black eyes glow red in the darkness as she finally breaks their gaze, doing her best to shut him out. Johnny hears the phone ringing and a familiar voice says ‘hello.’

She takes a breath and says: “Hey, Judy.” Her voice is surprisingly soft, subdued. Attempting to sound casual and failing.

Johnny can’t help but hear the response echoing in V’s head. “Hola, el azúcar, what’re you doing’ up so late?”

“Just workin’... Hey, mind if I swing by?” The hollow sound of her voice reached her ears, not sounding like her own.

“What’sa matter, mi corazon?” Worry tinges her voice.

“I just... I miss you.” ‘I _need you.’_ He can feel V's heart clench in need for Judy making him roll his eyes. Maybe she isn’t completely losing it after all.

“Come over, girl, I’m just finishing up editing a virtue.” The smile in her voice comforted V more than she knew was possible.

“See ya soon, Judy.” And the link is severed.

“There, ya happy?” She asks Johnny, her eyes wet.

“Yeah sure, maybe you’ll finally get laid. Get your pussy eaten, maybe you’ll calm down.”

* * *

She’s in Judy’s little kitchen drinking a cup of tea made with some sort of synth-water. The off-taste of the fake water is more intense when it’s heated up. She prefers real water but that shit’s too expensive. Then she feels bad for criticizing a gift. They were leaning against her counter, their hips both leaning on the plastic ledge, mimicking one another's posture. V was hugging herself loosely, a guarded welcome.

“You’re awful quiet V, kinda freakin’ me out,” Judy tells her, her hand on her arm. A hint of a smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“Thank you for letting me come over,” is all V can say. She stares into her tea.

“Don’t mention it. You gonna tell me what’s botherin’ you?” Judy is just so patient with her and she’s not sure how she earned it.

V tries to laugh it off. “It’s noth-”

Judy silences her by placing her hand on V’s cheek delicately. “You can tell me. Really.” V hasn't been touched this gently in so long. Judy’s honey, imploring eyes gaze into V’s inhuman, white on black ones.

Judy’s tenderness started a tidal wave inside V. Tears instantly well up in V's eyes, hot and overwhelming. The levee breaks. Leaning into the other woman’s hand, V's eyes shut tightly. Two fat tears roll down her face. ' _God, I’m pathetic.’_

“Oh, mi corazon, shh, shhhh.” Judy wraps her up into a hug, her arms surrounding her. V is so thankful that Johnny isn’t here to patronize her. He’d fucked off somewhere and she was glad. She hoped he was far away.

“I just don’t know who I am anymore, Judy.” She chokes out in sobs not even able to hug her back. “I don’t know what to do!”

Judy held her and shushed her. “Come on, now.” Angel as she was, Judy walked V’s shaking form over to the couch. "Hey," Judy crooned, "you're okay, baby." They sat close, never letting go. Judy’s arm still around her. ‘ _She smells so good.’_ V hadn't even called Judy once since she’d gone to visit Evelyn’s grave marker. Her final resting place in that little box in the wall with all those thousands of other little boxes like it. Indistinguishable. And here V was asking for sympathy.

“I’m a horrible person.” V can’t help but cover her face in shame. "I should go." Was her biz really worth all this bloodshed? She thought of the Maelstrom woman. Of the puddle on the concrete that V left behind not long ago. She felt sick again. Judy touched her shoulder, feather-light.

“No, V, you're not. You’re the farthest thing from it. You helped me find Ev and save her from that hell. Don't go.”

“I had a motive to find her, Judy. I needed her for info. I just use people up. I hurt them.” V’s mind was racing, frantic with exhaustion. She even suddenly felt bad for what she’d done to Johnny, locking him up in her fucked up head. How much of this was her fault?

“Shh, stop. No, you cared about her. I know you did. And you helped me, too. I'd be goin' crazy tryin' to find her if it weren't for you. And now... I have you and I couldn’t ask for anything more.” V's heart quaked in its boots. What exactly was she implying? Best not think about it right now. Her words were sweet but V wasn’t convinced. Judy only knew one side of her; the helpful one. That side of her had been buried down deep since the last she'd seen her. God, had it really only been a week? Or was it two? Wrack her brain and she couldn't come up with a body count -- there were too many. _'Fuckin' hell.'_

Judy was reaching for the bong on the table. “This'll make it all go away.” She dug a lighter out of the pocket of her overalls and helped V take a lungful of the comforting, fragrant smoke. A moment later her stress was melting away, like a thaw in the Spring. Judy took a toke and helped V out of her bulky, armored jacket, laying it gently on the couch behind her. A spent bullet dislodged from it and clinked on the floor.

Judy enveloped V back in her slim arms and they leaned back on the couch together. V’s head curling down to rest under Judy’s chin. She wonders, detachedly if Judy sees the bullet and is imagining what sort of dangerous situations V gets herself into. Does she wonder how often V puts herself in harm's way? How many times she's almost died? Judy doesn't even know that she has actually died once before. She doesn't want her to know anything about all that. But she knows that in spite of it all Judy is willing to leave her questions unasked. For some reason beyond her reckoning, Judy respects V enough to leave that topic alone. Maybe she just didn't want to know. They stayed like that in each other's arms for a long time. Heartbeats slowed and thruming in time, reverberating off one another. After some immeasurable amount of time had passed V asked if she could stay here for the night. 

“Of course, mi calabacita. Let’s go to bed.” Judy takes her hand and leads her to the bedroom. “Lemme turn off all the lights.” She says, leaving V sitting feeling still high and floaty. Her affection for the other woman was growing deeper by the second. ' _Weed’ll do that to you_ ,' she heard a voice say, distantly. V smiled a little. She wasn’t even mad at Johnny right now. Her mind swam and thoughts of Judy, love and redemption swirled soothingly in her head.

Judy came back and turned out the light before she stood before her to unclasp the closure on her overalls. They watched one another as she slid the pants down over her hips and to the floor. Tattoos covered her thighs and back, skin smooth and legs prickly. In her little shirt and panties, she helped V stand and began to help her out of her baggy pants like she was a child. She sat next to V on the bed and crawled in, lifting the blanket as an invitation to cozy up. 

“Thank you for coming to me tonight, for trusting me, even if all you needed was a shoulder to cry on.” Her voice was weighed down by sleepiness. Thick like syrup poured over V.

“You are so much more than that, Judy.” V whispers and leans down to greet Judy’s mouth with hers. Their lips brushed together, her own were chapped while Judy’s were butter-soft. They withdrew from the caste kiss and V shifted to turn around, inviting Judy to hug her while they slept together. Safe. Sound. Untroubled. She hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Loved. Secure. Safe. Here, floating on Judy's cloud.

_‘No action but hey, I guess this is good too.’_

_‘Quiet, Johnny. Go to sleep.’_


	2. This is a Start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took so long to publish! xoxo

They held hands while they slept. Curled up in her small bed together like life depended on it. Huddled, clutching, pretending the rest of the city didn’t exist around them. Nothing could hurt them. V woke up to the sound of rain slapping against the glass of the window and a car alarm blaring outside. Turning, she reached out an arm looking for her bedmate. The sheets were cold—Judy wasn't there.

She sat up, eyes searching when the lilting sound of Judy’s humming floated in through the open bedroom door. Her anxiety dissolved. What’d she think anyway, that Judy'd abandon V in her own bedroom? Disappear without a trace? No, Judy would sooner kick her out on the curb than leave her alone with all her precious antique tech. V smiled into her hands that she had pressed into her face. Her internal processors read 0930. It was late. Military time slipped with surprising ease into her thoughts when she least expected because that’s how Johnny thought. _‘Where’s he at anyway?’_ Thinking of him she’s suddenly hit with the memory of the dream she was woken up from. The details of the dream unearthing like artifacts from the mud in her psyche.

In her dream she’d been back in Vik’s office, layin’ on his table, wrapped in bandages. Just like when she was convalescing for those first few weeks after ‘Saka Tower. Vic stands before her and tells her that she’s got only a few weeks to live.

“Sorry, kid, ain’t nothin’ I can do t’save ya.” His voice is frosty, uncaring. Her heart sinks, like cold iron in her chest. ‘No…’ The fear resonates, echoing through all of her limbs to the tips of her fingers and down to her toes. In dreams, everything always feels so much more intense.

“Vik, you can’t let me die! I thought you could fix anything, you old, son of a bitch!” V is up from the table and latching onto his collar, begging him for help. Tryin’ to pry outta him any ounce of optimism she can. “Please!”

Vik looks at her with a sneer and easily dislodges her weak hands, shoving her away. He calls out, “Silverhand!” for assistance with her. “Get her outta here.”

Johnny strides up in his usual manner, his saunter lewd, replacing Vik. He scrapes her up from the ground, grabbing her roughly, and pushes out onto the alleyway. Kicking her out of the clinic like so much trash, she falls in a dirty rain puddle. Johnny stands back and crosses his arms; looming over her menacingly. He points a shiny, silver finger at her.

“Born in Heywood, die in Heywood. Just like Jackie. Did ya really think you could ever leave this toxic waste dump, streetrat?” His hatred for her bleeds off of him like a red haze, engulfing her. “Got too fuckin’ greedy and look where it got you!” The hairless cat in the alley stares at her, yellow eyes flashing in the red-tinged dark.

It hissed at her and then she woke up.

She still feels groggy. Her head swam a little, full of cotton. ‘What was in that goddamn weed?’ She finally senses the buzzing feeling that signals his appearance.

“That was strong shit… for you,” Johnny says, watching her from where he's sitting perched on Judy’s little vanity looking bored. “Now, let's get outta here.” he says softly, peering at her over his glasses. He almost looks sad or guilty, she can’t decide. She eyes him reluctantly, suspicious of what he knows. The dream left her wary of him, whether he deserved it or not. And she decided that he did in fact deserve it. She could swear she saw that mirage-like red glow around him until she blinked it away.

“Look, I think we need to talk ab—“

“—Hey, Judy?” V calls out before he has a chance to finish that thought. She didn’t feel like entertaining the thought that he could see her dreams, too. That was just another breach of her waning privacy she could add to the list. Johnny getting a front-row seat to her most private, unfettered thoughts made her very uneasy.

“Mornin’ V, coffee and breakfasts on the counter for ya.”

“Nova, you shouldn’t’ve.” V tries to make her voice sound light but her heart is heavy. _‘Really, Judy…’_

She hears Judy chuckle in response and she says in the warmest voice, “Now that you say that, maybe you're right!”

V sees her pants balled up on the floor at her feet. She stands to put them on. Memories of the night before stand out in contrast to the memories of the dream. Johnny’s outbursts, her crying in Judy’s arms, their kisses, the Maelstrom woman’s convulsing corpse. The memories fill her with a vague sense of guilt. She shouldn't have let herself be so vulnerable. V couldn’t put that pressure on someone, especially Judy who's already dealt with so much recently. Shouldn't have let Judy think she could help her. Her mind starts to spiral darkly, subconscious rounding on her like a demon. A familiar sharp pain bloomed behind her eyes, the world glitching around her in vertical blue lines.

“V,” Johnny asks, “you feelin’ alright?”

“Yeah, Johnny, just hung ov—” The smell of copper hits her instantly and she feels a warm trickle. V sniffs instinctively and tastes blood. She wipes her nose and the back of her hand comes away with a bright, red streak smeared from her wrist up her arm. The migraine suddenly doubles down and sends her to the floor, synapses misfiring, crackling her optics and ‘ganic ears. A warning beep sounds off in her internal audio. Judy must have heard the crash and rushed in to check on her.

“Fuckin’ chip…” she hears Johnny say, angrily. Vision flickering, she feels what seems like painful arcs of lightning travel through her body. Her lungs seize and she coughs. Blood splatters Judy’s floor.

“Fuck, V, that’s a lotta blood!” Judy is crowding her, trying to help her up from the ground.

“No shit,” Johnny says, unheard by Judy. “Gotta go see Vik. Now.”

“’M fine, air just must be really dry in here,” she lies, letting herself be helped to her feet. She goes to leave the bedroom and Judy practically heards her into her bathroom.

“Where d'ya think you're goin’ looking like that?”

“I gotta go see my ripperdoc, he’s not far.” V positions herself over the sink to try to contain the mess. God, her head…

“Lemme take you. You sick or somethin’?” Judy stuffs handfuls of toilet paper into V’s hands. The thought of telling Judy that she was dying made her feel nauseous. Guilt gripped her gut. V made up her mind at that moment that she wouldn’t ever tell Judy about the Relic or about Johnny. It would only hurt her to know she couldn’t do anything to help. V couldn’t let her carry that weight for her.

“No, Judy, I got it. I,” she coughs, “I can take my bike.”

“What’re you an idiot? It’s rainin’! You're not ridin’ a motorcycle like this.” She wasn’t making this easy. Judy tries to hold V’s face still to get a better look, turning her face left and right.

“Chick’s finally got somethin’ right,” Johnny says from where he’s sitting on the edge of the tub. V shoots him a glare.

“I'm okay, I swear.” A little awkward chuckle comes from her throat to try to lighten the mood. “Get these all the time.” Lies come naturally to her. She looks up and pinches the bridge of her nose to slow the now constant trickle. The sink bowl is spattered with blood so fresh and bright it’s almost orange against the white plastic basin.

“It’s nothin’, V. I’ll take you, we can take my van.” Her persistence makes V realize that Judy actually cares about her. She feels like scum for leading her on. But who is V kidding? She’d do the same in Judy’s shoes.

“No, Judy, I got this. Seriously!” V says a little more forcefully than she meant to. Judy looks hurt but she backs off, hands held up defensively. Dizziness fizzled in V’s head, the pain making her squint.

“Okay, fine. Whatever you say.” She backs out of the bathroom begrudgingly and tells her she hung up V’s jacket by the front door. V feels guilty instantly. She can’t get too close. Judy doesn’t deserve to have to lose someone else she cares for.

“No, Judy, it’s--”

“Obviously you don’t need my help. I should know better than t’try to help gonk girls who don’t want it,” Judy told her from the other room. She couldn't tell if she was mad at V or herself. Probably both. Judy’s quick temper always seemed to get the better of her. It stings but this is what V wanted, right?

“Yikes, took that personal, didn’t she?” Johnny says, sounding suspiciously pleased with this turn of events. V gives him a second glare.

“Touchy, touchy,” he says smirking. He disappears only to reappear by the front door, guiding her out.

“You're not helping.” V points out while she puts her jacket back on.

He looks slyly amused. “What? I’m right. Just get fuckin’ movin’. We can’t afford to lose all this blood. Chip’s really doin’ a number.”

“Hey, V,” the techie’s voice called down the entrance hallway, stopping V in her tracks. “Who's Johnny?” Judy asks stiffly accompanied by the sound of water; she’s washing V’s blood from her hands in her kitchen sink. Washing her down the drain.

V hesitates, frozen. _‘Uh oh.’_ Time to play dumb. “… Huh?”

“You called his name in your sleep.” She says, tersely. Johnny and V’s eyes meet and he purses his lips but says nothing.

“He’s um, he’s no one.” A fresh wave of pain slams her, the display of her optics flashing a red warning sign. V grips the wall for support. “Shit, gotta go, I’ll call you.”

Judy pops around the corner to watch her leave. She levels her with a distinctive _look_ that says “be careful” and nods before V walks out the door, breakfast left untouched on the counter.

V walks down the stairs holding the bloody tissues to her face, and gripping the railing, trying not to trip. People in the halls give her strange looks but thankfully no one talks to her. Finally, she reaches the front door, but she waits in the brief shelter of the doorway before taking the plunge into the cold rain.

“God, it's really fuckin’ comin’ down,” she sniffs, only causing herself to choke and have to spit the blood that drains into her throat. The bloody spot she made on the ground dissolves into the gravel as it's dissipated by the rain. The concept of her mortality dawning on her yet again. Johnny’s voice makes her jump.

“Call the Del, you're not takin’ the bike.”

“No.”

“Yes. Call the damn cab. You know you're bein’ stupid. Don't let your pride kill you. Save that shit for some other day.” His voice carries a finality she’s never quite heard in him, directed at her. His tone strongly suggests that she shouldn’t argue and she honestly doesn’t have the energy to anyway. She sighs, feeling more and more like a colossal fuck up. _‘Fine.’_ V thinks to him. Connecting to the holo, her eyes flash like red LEDs and Johnny nods his head once, satisfied.

* * *

When the sentient taxi arrives she ducks through the rain and piles into the back seat, thankful the heater in the car was already on.

“Thanks, Del.” V grunts and Johnny glitches into the seat to the right of her. He’s smoking a cigarette and she almost tells him to crack the window, but then remembers that his smoke isn’t real.

“Greetings, V, it would appear that you are in need of medical assistance.”

“Yeah, Del, get me to Vik’s. Stat.”

“Straight away, V. Your line of work seems to cause you many injuries. Perhaps a new profession is in order.”

“Thanks. Get right on that...” Her hands are bloodier than she remembers them being moments ago.

“Ha ha.” The AI says to her, humorlessly. But it sounds distant. Her mind swims heavily, a familiar, heady sensation she quickly learned to associate with imminent loss of consciousness. Suddenly, she feels herself slipping almost forgetting where she was.

She looks around the car. “Fuck… Johnny?” V reaches for him. She’s not sure why, maybe because he’s the only one who's there.

“A cleaning service fee will be added to your bill.” She barely hears Del.

“'M right here. You’re doin fine, kid.” He doesn’t look at her. Can’t bear to see her looking to him for salvation in her time of need.

“Don’t call me ki…” She grumbles at him and she’s out like a light.

“Shit.” He lays back in the seat, defeated. They’re still a ways from Viks. He contemplates taking over her body to tell the damned AI to hurry the Hell up. But it seems like Del has picked up some speed on his own accord. This kid, no... this woman has even charmed the cold, tangled circuits of a computer. V seems to be capable of everything. He wonders how her life might have gone if the heist hadn’t been so cocked up by cruel fate and circumstance. Her and Jackie. Taking on the world together, rich as snot. Then he wonders what it’s like to actually have people like you for you not just for your rockstar status. Blood was still trickling down her face, into her mouth, down her chin. Her shirt was soaked, clinging to her tits which he tries not to look at, not that she would know. Fear colored his senses at the thought of her blinking out of existence. If she bites the big one so does he. And ya know, he doesn’t really want her to die.

“Hey… you gotta wake up or you’re gonna fuckin’ choke.” He says craning over her. “You hear me?”

He reached his hand out to her and thought, _‘What the Hell? Why not give it a try?’_ And gave her a light couple of slaps on her cheek. Johnny feels his hand make contact but it’s a muted sensation. It feels like her body is the surface of water, distinctly there but not solid. His fingers touch her but his hand sinks right through her face. ‘Huh…’ Everything about their neural entanglement was so fuckin’ weird. He’s both surprised and disappointed. He tries again, concentrating. She felt a little more solid to him but still not completely corporeal. This time he can feel the shape of her cheek, her skin warm and soft. Johnny’s hand, which should have come back bloody from trying to wake her, remained unsoiled. Nothing could stick to fingers that weren’t really there.

She stirred and coughed, blood phasing through him and spattering the screen on the back of the seat in front of her.

“Ungggh Christ…! Not good.” V cradled her head, curling in on herself in the black leather seat.

“Good, you’re awake. Tip your head back and pinch your nose, damnit!” This must be his 'this is worse than I thought' voice. That worries her a little. Her blood really was everywhere though. When had she bled all this?

“I know what to do,” she grumbled wetly, struggling to sit back up while fighting against the momentum of a sharp turn the taxi pulled. Her nose has never bled like this in her life. This was unreal.

“Then fuckin’ do it. I can’t do it for you.”

“Stop tellin’ me what to do.” She was so weak but still found the energy to be annoyed by him. He could feel something hidden in her, a warmth swelling within: her gratitude toward him. He almost recoiled at the hint of it. He didn’t do anything to deserve her appreciation. Is she really that damn deprived of approval? He guesses that yeah, she is. _‘Sad little fuck…’_

V decided she would pinch the bridge of her nose and while her head lolled she couldn’t help but look out the window, a faint smile spreading on her face. The reflected neon on the wet pavement dazzled her glassy eyes. He knew she was thinking of the ride home from Konpeki Plaza in this very Delamain. It’d been raining then, too.

“The city looks so pretty when it rains, don’tcha think, Johnny?” Her voice is sleepy, muffled and still gravely with blood.

“No, I don’t.” He answers distractedly. She’s out of it which is a bad sign. V frowns in response, feeling so heavy and tired. He focuses on the physical contact he’s trying to make with her again and he actually gains the ability to tilt her chin down a little to at least keep the blood from sliding down to her throat. You can swallow a pint of blood before getting sick. She doesn’t even react to him touching her.

“Hey, look at me,” he barks at her. “Don’t you dare check out on me again.”

She complies and her dazed eyes lock onto his. He notices that the dark sclera of her Keroshis are actually navy blue not black. The softly glowing whites of her pupils and iris’ bore into his, half-lidded, lips slicked red, chin dripping. She’s fighting to stay conscious. She’s pale. _‘Come on, V.’_

“I’m sorry…” she mumbles, her blood making her lips too slippery, “that you hate… me…” And she passes out for the second time.

In a rare show of luck in Night City, they happen to only be a block away from Viktor’s.

* * *

The Delamain pulls up and stops abruptly in front of Misty’s Esoterica and honks twice. The eclectic little shop glows, warmly lit by numerous candles within; a safe haven from the pouring rain. The city is blanketed in a rare fog making the rain feel inescapable. It surrounds everyone, everything in a hazy, neon gloom.

“We have arrived at your destination.” Del’s bright, digital voice falls on V’s deaf ears.

“We’re here, V. Time to wake up.” She stirs after she's jerked forward by the stopping of the car. Johnny manifests leaning on the outside on the passenger door, arms folded, thankful the rain couldn't put out his holographic cigarette.

“Mmm…” She rasps, the sound low in her throat.

Misty comes out, sheltering her face from the rainfall. She cautiously opens the door seeing a huddled figure inside.

“V! Oh god…”

“Greetings, miss Olszewski. Miss V has lost a significant amount of blood.”

“Thanks, Del, I got her.” Misty says already positioning V to stand.

“Sorry, I didn’t call ahead…” V says to Misty, wryly, her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Don’t be silly! What happened to you?” Misty is pulling V’s arm over her shoulder so she can stand more easily. _‘She’s so nice,’_ V thinks dreamily.

“Does it fuckin’ matter? Get her inside!” _‘Why is Johnny so mad?’_

“She can't hear you.” V mumbles to Johnny out loud. She pushes herself up and allows Misty to support her almost entirely. _‘Oh, V…’_

“What, V?” Misty asks curiously. Instead of answering her, V feels her stomach churn and she can’t stop herself from painting her own shoes red with the acidic, blackened blood she had swallowed during the car ride.

“Vik, I need you!” Misty’s voice calls out, the pitch in her voice high with worry. Next thing she knows they’re on Vik’s table under the bright lights.

“Kid, this is gonna hurt, no two ways goin’ ‘bout it. Misty, hold her.”

She vaguely feels something metal going into her right nostril.

“You’re not giving her a local?” Misty’s voice. She’s scared.

“Nah, no time.”

“Docs not even gonna numb ya. Hold on tight.” Johnny warns her, his voice is the clearest sound in the room to her ears.

Pain shoots through her as Vik cauterizes her nosebleed, stopping the flow instantly. Her nose, her whole face, feels like it’s on fucking fire. It’s a good thing Misty is holding her because she would have shot up from that table. She stifles a scream, holding it in as best she can. Oh, the smell is awful. She reaches to grab her face and Vik grabs her arm gently.

“Don’t touch it,” cautions the doctor.

“Fuck, man…” she laughs a little delirious then cringes when Vik sticks her with a needle attached to a red IV in the crook of her arm. “Hey!”

“Chill out, kid, this synth-blood’ll patch you right up.” The old man sticks by her side, checking her vitals while her body adjusts to accept the new blood. V’s system comes back online much quicker than she expected. Vik says it's because nanites in the synth-blood are counteracting the ill-effects of her sudden blood loss. They’re replenishing her cells with nourishment.

“Sounds expensive,” she says, beginning to feel more aware.

“It is,” he answers.

The ripper gives V an inhaler that’ll constrict her blood vessels, to help if she has any further complications. He placed it in her hand none too gently. He’s upset, but she can tell he doesn’t wanna talk about it. Vik gives her the all-clear to leave but she can’t bring herself to go just yet. Even though she knows Vik isn't much of a talker, she lingers. She’s afraid of the loneliness that’ll hit her when she leaves his company. The loneliness that is unique to living in Night City. Surrounded by people but always alone. She’s known Vik for years, met him when she was just a teenager fending for herself on the streets. He’s the closest thing to a dad she’s ever had, but that’s not saying much.

“Thanks old man, I owe you one.” Her voice cracks. He's brought her back from death's door once again.

Vik studies her, nonplussed. He pushes up his glasses. “You still owe me from last time.” He smirks at her lazily but she's ashamed that she’s been so preoccupied that she's still forgotten to pay Vik for the Keroshi scanner. She’s thankful he doesn’t ask her about her nosebleed because he already knows why it happened. The chip is killing her. Neither of them can stop it. No reason to rehash what they both know. Nevertheless, the things left unsaid hang in the air of the chilly basement clinic he calls his.

“Damn, you're right! Here’s your money. Can't believe I forgot.”

“No, kid, keep it. I—I didn't mean you had to pay it now.”

“Vik, here. I gotta keep my word, you taught me that much.”

Their eyes meet for a few seconds, glowing blue for the transfer of eddies. He seems to laugh easier and claps her on the back as she leaves. He must have really needed that money. He’s not running a charity shop, after all. But she’ll still owe him for the synth-blood. Didn’t have enough for that yet.

Her tired legs climb the wet, concrete steps from his clinic and V almost trips over the hairless cat eating on the top step. It stands up tall, arching its back and growls at her, too intelligent a glint in it’s eye for her liking.

She tries to shoo it but the sphynx cat just looks at her. “Go on,” she tells it.

“Leave her be, V, she’s old.” Misty says, laughing sweetly from the backdoor of her shop.

“She started it!” V laughed in return.

“Really are a streetrat picking fights with mangy alley cats, aren't ya?” Johnny says, probably attempting to be funny but V remembers something familiar about that phrase. _‘Streetrat…’_ The old, wrinkled cat hisses at her from where she stands on the damp landing, her shoes splashing in a rain puddle. _'Woah… Déjà vu. Weird.'_

“Better than bein’ a narcissistic asshole,” she retorts but there's no venom behind it. He huffs in response.

“Who’s cat is she?” She asks Misty, leaving Johnny and the eerie cat behind. V seems to remember petting this cat more than once in the past. Why does she hate her now?

“Oh, she’s no one’s and everyone’s. People’ve tried to take her home but she always comes back here. Likes her freedom. Like you do.” Misty eyes V, choosing her words carefully.

“You like the ‘freedom’ of this alley, huh? Whatever floats your boat, kitty cat.” V says, wondering if she really is similar to the skinny cat. What freedoms have V chosen? She certainly doesn’t have many left now. Your life choices let you pick and choose your freedoms later in life, you just don’t always know what you're choosing from when you decide. V is lost in thought when she walks in through the backdoor of the shop, following the woman inside. The rain had slowed but it was still much warmer indoors. Misty stood behind her little counter, mystical baubles swinging around her. She silently indicates that V should stand opposite her on the other side. This was a place V had seen Jackie stand often, opposite his girl.

“V, in spiritual circles, it is believed that people emanate electrical fields that can be perceived as colors by those observant enough. These electrical fields are called “auras.” I’m telling you this because your aura has changed ever since the Relic…”

V hesitates. Misty's about to get weird again. “And you can see them, these auras?”

“Yes, I can, especially when an aura is very strong, like yours. It demands to be seen.” Misty pauses for what V can only assume is effect. “Before the job you had a yellow aura, you always had determination and hope for the future, just like my Jackie. His was yellow, too. Very bright as well. But now… you have two colors, swirling together.”

V always tried to keep an open mind when talking to Misty but today she was feeling skeptical. Though she was right about Jackie’s gonk optimism. V had fed off of that energy. It was infectious. They could pull off anything as long as they were together — even klep from the gods. If Misty says her aura had changed… The only thing that’s really changed within her was the inclusion of Johnny Silverhand’s engram in her psyche. Her stomach felt cold all of a sudden like the bottom was about to drop out.

“Now,” Misty says, “your crown chakra has a distinct red aura. But that’s not all. If I concentrate...” Misty closes her eyes and she ever so slowly points to the exact place where Johnny is leaning by the front door. “I can see a red glow… there.”

V’s jaw drops and she looks at Johnny who stays completely stone-faced, eyes hidden behind his red aviators. V gets the chills. He was red in her dream, too. But… no, she’s not ready for this kinda information. Gives her the creeps. She loves Misty, but…

“Woah, woah… Let’s not uhh..” V laughs awkwardly. Not sure what to say. Misty had actually sensed Johnny. She didn’t know that was possible. What did this mean?

“Am I right? Is he there?” Misty whispers, and opens her eyes, and smiles eagerly at her.

“Yeah, V, am I there?” She turns back to look at him, not sure if or how to answer. _‘Are you?’_ She rubs the side of her head feeling the damaged neural port where the chip is sealed in. Something was certainly there. Or someone.

V clears her throat and chuckles again to cover her trepidation. “I uh, I gotta go, Misty. Thanks for everything.”

“Come back any time, V. Not just when you're flatlining, okay?” Misty smiles and V envies her serenity. “I'll read your spread next time, on the house.” She does a little wave at her, her hand peeking out of her oversized sleeve.

“Sure thing, Misty.”

* * *

Walking out of the shop was almost a relief. Her usual loneliness couldn't seem to keep up with her today because Johnny fell into step with her as she walked down the street. The buzzing that accompanied him wasn’t as strong now, he almost felt like he held more of a solid presence. Strange. Was his “aura” indicative of that shift as well? Would her aura eventually turn red to match his? Or would they blend and create a caustic shade of orange together? Only time would tell their twisted fate. Today she has survived another day and it was because of Johnny. Maybe she could smile at him a little more often but, then again, his intentions aren’t ever entirely pure. Well anyway, at least she was feeling better, almost like new now. The walk home wasn’t far at all and it was only sprinkling now. Johnny’s engram flickered blue and appeared a few feet before her. Facing her, he walked backward, keeping up pace. He was oddly chipper. Well, at least, as chipper as he could be.

“Believe in all that mumbo jumbo?” He blew his cigarette smoke off to the side so she wouldn't walk into his cloud. Not that it mattered but she supposed it was thoughtful. Must have been a vestigial reflex from when he was alive.

“I dunno, she was pretty dead-on when she pointed directly at your sorry ass. So, maybe, what the hell, ya know?” Her hands gestured cluelessly as she kept walking, watching his backward stride. Watching his hips move lithely. It wasn’t really an answer but it filled the air.

He grunted and changed the subject, V could feel that it creeped him out, too. “Man, I still can’t believe the hair on that chick.”

“Hey! Be nice.” She actually laughed.

“Nice, me? Never.”

“Oh right. Forgot who I was talkin’ to.” She groaned, rolling her eyes. He grinned back, briefly.

“Hey.” He slowed his backward walking to a stop. She stopped directly in front of him. “The part with the cat back there. Seemed familiar, didn't it? Spooky. What are you psychic?” He seemed earnest but also amused. A serious question wrapped in a joke.

She thought of the dream, its vividness fading as each minute passed. So he was going to address it first? Well, one of them had to. This must have been his way of letting her know that he could see her dreams while she slept, confirming her suspicions. V wished it wasn’t true but appreciated how casual he was being about it. He wasn’t going to make it a big deal. That made it easier. She tried to match his attitude.

“Maybe.” She shrugged. How was she supposed to know? “Might as well get some fuckin’ superpowers from all this shit.”

He laughed dryly. Then he placed his hand on her shoulder, she almost jerked away she's so surprised to actually feel his hand on her, subtle as the sensation may be. She looked at his hand then back at him, eyes wide. The feedback hum of their touch rang in her ears for a moment before cutting out like an electric guitar being plugged into an amp. **BZZT!** Johnny had her complete attention now.

“I don't hate you. Not anymore.” It would have sounded cruel if anyone else had said it. It might have still been. His dark eyes stared into her’s. “And that dream? Was exactly that; just a dream. Wouldn’t say that to ya, V. Never like that.”

He was apologizing for something he says he didn’t even do. She mulls it over, lightly pulling away from his touch. She still wasn’t ready for this though. Whatever this is. “Okay, I believe you.”

_‘Not sure what this is but it's a start.’_

V went home and slept for a long time. No bad dreams troubled her.

**Author's Note:**

> Penny for your thoughts? I thrive off of reviews. Can't live without them, actually. Please keep me alive. lol


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